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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979754">Templars are Red, Lyrium is Blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/equs_equus/pseuds/equs_equus'>equs_equus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Memory Loss, Oral Sex, Slavery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2018-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2018-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,849</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/equs_equus/pseuds/equs_equus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in a world where  Garrett Hawke betrays Fenris, handing the elf back to his former master.</p><p>Danarius is well known in Tevinter Circles for many reasons, most involved his experiments with lyrium. This fame had put a target on his back; and he supposed it would have only been a matter of time before those heretics demanded an audience with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danarius/Fenris (implied), Fenris/Male Hawke (past), Raleigh Samson/Fenris</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Templars are Red, Lyrium is Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Who were these men to think they could just arrive at a doorstep unannounced? Certainly, the templar armor was foreign and instilled some kind of fear in the elf's bones; but he stood fast, blocking the way between templar and magister, keeping to his duty as his master's bodyguard. Danarius yanked down on the short length of chain in his hands, jerking Fenris' head. "Heel, dog," he growled between his yellowed teeth. Fenris made a small sound and stepped back, not wishing to invoke the wrath of his master. He was already stepping on eggshells as it was. As much as it pained him to obey like Danarius' trained pet, it certainly beat having to stay cooped up in a cell with nary a thing to even look at. That had been maddening. Having had his memory picked apart again, he still was unsure of how long he'd spent chained to the wall of that closet. At least when he pretended to be tame and complacent, he got a bed. He got fed. He saw the sun. Danarius had promised him that at least. His "master" had also promised that this would be his final chance. If he ever ran away from Tevinter again, death would be the only thing chasing him. As a safeguard, Danarius had a leash on him that he couldn't slip out of; a vial of his blood that hung around his neck, beneath his robes. Not much different from the phylacteries that templars used to track down renegade mages. The magister would resort to blood magic to keep him in line. </p><p>So here he was; Fenris, the famed Blue Wraith, had been made once again, Fenris, Danarius' Wolf. The elf sneered and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd been so close, so close to ridding himself of Danarius. But Hawke had betrayed him, sold him away for two gold. His master told him all about it, how his best friend had betrayed his trust and threw away their relationship to run off with the abomination, Anders. Anders, who would later destroy innocent lives in his public outcry for mage rights. Anders, who had knocked the first domino over and started this whole blighted mage rebellion.</p><p>"Fenris! Pay attention when I talk to you boy!" Danarius snapped him out of his stewing thoughts and the elf turned his green eyes towards the aged magister. He had his back turned to his slave, all attention on the rugged looking templar before them.</p><p>"My...apologies. My mind wandered." Fenris said quietly, hoping not to tread on toes. Danarius waved his hand in dismay.</p><p>"Make a fool of me in front of my guests..." Danarius muttered under his breath, "Go fetch me my journals, the green ones with a gold dragon on the covers." He snapped, pushing him away with a strong shove. Fenris made a disgruntled noise, his frown contorting into another scowl.</p><p>"Yes...master." The elf said. The words felt like pulling teeth. He ducked his head down and quickly backed out of Danarius' sitting room. </p><p> </p><p>He slammed his fist into the first object that wasn't alive, or breakable. </p><p><em>Fasta Vass!</em> He thought in anger, clenching his teeth. <em>That viper, Danarius, what does he want with those anyways…</em>The green ones, he remembered. They were chock full of research the mage had done, a how-to guide to grafting pure lyrium into skin. It contained the information on his entire being. Why was he showing those to Templars? </p><p>Fenris slid into his master's study, kept mostly clean, except his heavy oak desk. No one, unless told to, was allowed to touch it; and it was littered with papers and stacks of journals. Fenris tore his eyes from the mess and instead turned towards the shelves standing to the right of the balcony doors. He ran a bony, white-lined, finger along the spines of the books and started: red, blue, two black, green, a yellow one...</p><p>He ended up pulling six different green journals before finding the ones with gold dragons on them. There had been one with the black crest of Tevinter on it, but after flipping through the pages, and looking at the pictures, he could guess that this one was only an in-depth analysis of mage fire. Fenris quietly put the others away, carrying out the bundle of three that his master had asked for. If he were a different man, he could have tossed them in the fire. He wanted to scream in protest, throw a tantrum; he wanted anything but to be Danarius' little pet. His fate was absolute though, he had to obey.</p><p>Fenris swallowed his pride as he crossed the sitting room's threshold, holding out the small stack of books.</p><p> "It's about time..." Danarius muttered as he took the stack of books from him.</p><p>"I can't believe you managed to break his spirit, Magister. Last time I saw that elf, he was running around with Hawke and Co., ripping out the hearts of slavers and gang leaders." Fenris looked up, eyes widening. They knew each other in Kirkwall? Danarius grunted in amusement, checking to make sure the journals were the correct ones.</p><p>"Afraid he doesn't remember much of that. We took a ship on our way back to Qarinus, the sea was rather rough that season; unfortunately, he ended up hitting his head when the ship pitched forward on a particularly high wave. The blow wiped out most of his memories." Danarius said in a nonchalant tone. The magister held the journals out to the templar, who took them with both hands. <em>That was a lie! </em>Fenris bit his tongue to keep from protesting, standing still with a pained expression on his face. The templar looked up from the pages he'd been turning through to stare at him.</p><p>"Ah, what a shame. Though, I suppose a blank slate was easier to work with than a wild wolf." The templar laughed, a hissing chuckle. "These are rather useful Messere Danarius, and your slave here is one of your finished products?"</p><p> </p><p>"Er, yes Ser..." Danarius asked indirectly.</p><p> </p><p>"Samson"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and raised his hands as if in epiphany. "Ser Samson, Fenris is my longest surviving subject. Two others preceded him before I discovered a way to stabilize the lyrium so that it wouldn't flood the bloodstream. However, it's not yet a perfected art. I sense he's due for a refurbishment any day now." Danarius reached out and grabbed him by the arm, humming as the lyrium lines flickered at his fingertips. Fenris tried not to pull his arm away as a feeling of static shot up the markings. "Yes, they're a bit haggard." Fenris made a small sound and slipped his arm from Danarius' grasp, earning a look for his insubordination. "Apparently, they also trouble him..." He drawled. Samson cleared his throat and nodded.</p><p>"These will be quite helpful for Maddox. You won't mind if I borrow them for now, right Magister?" The Templar asked with the honesty of well-rehearsed liar. </p><p>"Of course not, as long as they are returned to me once you've copied your notes. That's my life's work you're holding there." Danarius said in a gravelly tone. Fenris guessed he may be joking with the man, but his master's humor was usually of the dry sort. The blank look Samson gave the mage proved his point. "Ser Samson, what are your plans with an experiment on lyrium grafting? I don't expect the Elder One plans on marching into the Black City with an army of lyrium soldiers; as tempting as it may sound, there is simply not enough lyrium to do so. Fenris alone took a half a barrel by the time I was done with him." He chuckled and stood from his chair. Fenris moved to help him but the magister swatted him away. "I'm old...but not decrepit, pet." He grumbled. Fenris muttered an apology under his breath, realizing he'd overstepped his duties again. </p><p>Samson nodded and shut the journal he was looking through.</p><p>"Corypheus plans to create armor for the Red Templars, combining their original armor with raw lyrium. The older stuff, the red lyrium. Calpernia had a basic design, but she voiced her opinion that your experiments with lyrium grafting had actually worked. Judging from these journals, I'd say you might've had an idea." Danarius hummed in amusement as he listened, nodding his head.</p><p>"That being said, what are you willing to give me in return, Commander Samson?" Danarius asked boldly as he moved towards an end table with a stack of paper, “the Venatori, though they are lead by that <em>soporati</em> bitch, Calpernia, and a false god; I can't help but be intrigued in their endeavors.” Fenris looked over at his master, astonished. Danarius was looking expectantly at Samson. </p><p>The magister had mentioned the Venatori a month or so ago, reading through the propaganda that they had mixed in with his letters. Fenris had though it sounded like something Danarius had interest in; but the old mage had said nothing about joining and had tossed the fliers into the fire.</p><p>Though, what point did Danarius have for telling an elven slave something that did not concern him. His master may have changed his mind over the last few weeks. With all their talk of invading southern Thedas, and their conquest to return everything to the glory days of Imperial Tevinter, even the reluctant magisters were starting to get curious. As he had thought before, the Venatori's interests were his master's interests. Samson's eyes first looked to his master, and then, surprisingly, looked over to him.</p><p>"I've no hard connections with the Venatori, but...I may be able to see what I can do. The next time we meet, I’ll put in a word that Magister Danarius is interested in our research." The Templar closed the cover of the journal slowly, keeping eye contact with Fenris the whole time. </p><p>There was a strange hunger in the Templar's eyes and he thought perhaps it was from his dependency on lyrium. Fenris furrowed his brow, his markings were also lyrium. Was he looking at him, or the brands that covered his body? It was an unsettling thought and he had to look away. "Your elf doesn't like me much." Samson remarked, grinning. Fenris sneered at him and went to look for something to straighten up, anything to avoid that stare.</p><p>"Fenris doesn't like many things, that's what makes him a good guard dog. Now about-"</p><p>"Maybe, if I were able to get some hands on information, I would have a better chance of convincing Magister Calpernia of your worth to the Venatori." Samson cut him off, raising his voice. Fenris flinched and dropped a heavy glass paper-weight he'd been about to put on a shelf. It smacked into the rug on the floor with a 'clunk'. Before anyone noticed, he quickly balanced it onto his foot and tossed it into the lower shelf. With a quiet rolling noise it thumped into the back of the shelf. There was a terrible silence that hung in the air for too long a moment until Samson spoke up. "Forgive me Magister, I'm so used to mages groveling at my feet, I had almost forgotten to whom I've been speaking with. Don't mind me; I'm just an old southern Templar." He explained with a nervous laugh. "Of course, I can pull a few strings with Calpernia and her lot to get you into the Venatori." Samson scratched at the stubble on his chin, and glanced again at Fenris. The Templar held up the green journals in one hand, "Thank you, Magister Danarius, for your wonderful hospitality." Fenris wasn't sure if he had heard it, but he couldn't help but think Samson's remark had been a sarcastic one. Danarius held up a knotty hand, dismissing his apology.</p><p>"The pleasure was mine; I don't get many guests from the south, Ser Samson. I must say, you are far better behaved than some of the other Free Marcher's I've met." He said and raised an eyebrow. "Many of them were too busy judging our way of life," He waved them both away as he continued to gather up the last of his things from the end table. "You said you’d like hands on information, Fenris would be happy to comply with your demands. All I ask is that you leave him in one piece before you take your leave."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>ooo</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Fenris felt his heart skip a beat and he turned around with mortified expression. "What?-" a snap of his master's fingers silenced him and his words died away in a low grumble.</p><p>“Did I stutter?” Danarius growled back.</p><p>The elf slapped down the tin he'd been holding to look him in the eyes. "Fine." If Danarius wanted an obedient dog, he'd get his obedient dog, Fenris scowled as he approached Samson. The Templar seemed hesitant about him as he moved towards him, something that Fenris noted as a personal win, and his frown twitched into the beginnings of a confident sneer. "What would you have me do, Danarius?" Fenris droned out.</p><p>"Naughty creature, how many times do I have to tell you, the word is Master" the magister sighed, "I don't care; entertain our guest. I have important work to do." Fenris watched as Danarius paused to straighten out the edges of one letter before he added it into the pile.</p><p>"I hope that your elf doesn't plan to kill me, Magister." Samson smirked as he contemplated removing his armor. It would be a shame to get this far, only to be murdered by Hawke's death elf; <em>right</em>, former death elf. Though, glancing down at Fenris’ verdant eyes, murder and death weren’t too far off. "Right, well. Thank you again, Danarius for the, uh," he tore his eyes away for a moment to find the magister. Where had he gone to? "Journals...he doesn't waste time, does he?" Danarius had already fled the sitting room, leaving him with his slave.</p><p>"No and neither do I." Fenris griped as he tugged his tunic up over his head and threw it to the side. If he had to do this, he hoped the Templar would be quick about it so he could get back to his chores. Though, he couldn't hold back the small whine that crept up his throat as the warm air touched his skin; feeling betrayed by his body. He was used to the dull sting his tattoos caused; but something had changed over the years, and now his markings had made his skin hypersensitive. He hummed in relief as he flexed his fingers, enamored by the feeling on his bare skin. He was also increasingly aware of the wandering gaze of Samson.</p><p>"The answer is yes; they do go further...Danarius was quite thorough." Fenris drawled as he watched Samson's eyes following the trails of lyrium along his chest and stomach as he stretched. He was used to being flaunted about at his master's soirées, being forced into doing unspeakable things with his friends and peers. And the first question they had always asked had been, "How far down do those markings go?” He looked at Samson with a winsome smirk, a well-rehearsed one. "Would you like to see, Ser Templar?" he asked, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. </p><p>The elf's sudden change in personality caught Samson off guard and he was overcome with a feeling that he was being seduced by the prickly elf. Watching him slowly shimmy his leggings down past his hips only proved his point further and Samson was starting to question his morals. That brought up a good point though; did he have any morals? He'd done far worse things for a taste of lyrium. Fenris held his gaze downwards as his fingers roamed over the fine, white, lines circumnavigating his body, trying not to place a face to the rough hands that met him as they reached the slight curve of his hips. He turned his head to the side with a soft grunt and leaned into the templar's touch. The elf's tattoos shimmered beneath his fingers for the briefest of moments. He hissed at the sting it brought, but Samson pulled him back with gentle strokes to his sides.</p><p>The less he thought about it, the more this man reminded him of Hawke. Similar calloused hands, same strong arms, and that same scruffy beard. Fenris sucked in a breath as a wandering hand found its way between his thighs. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back in a stiffled groan, relishing the feeling of Samson's hand against his sensitive skin as well as trying to egg him on. His master had told him to be entertaining, and he would deliver.</p><p>"Is this all it takes to tame Danarius' wolf? My, my, I'm surprised; I expected more of a fight." Samson mocked as he coaxed another squeak out of him. Fenris bared his teeth and squirmed with defiance, but the way his hands toyed at the sash about Samson's waist said he meant otherwise. Play with the Templar, don't get punished. Fenris feigned a smile as he pulled the sash free. He left it, crumpled on the floor beside them, as he rolled his hips against Samson. </p><p>"I am a wolf when it is asked of me, I'm also my master's dog," Fenris said with a curl of his lip and a nibble along Samson's jaw, "other days…I am little more than his bitch."</p><p>Samson's hand wrapped around the elf's throat, the tattoos warm; Fenris sucked in a breath as Samson squeezed gently, rubbing a thumb along the center of his neck and pinning Fenris' head back. "And the rest of the time, you are everyone else's?" Samson said as he pushed him back towards the nearby end table. Fenris grunted and threw out a hand to keep from falling backwards into it.</p><p>"No, not here; over to the chair." Fenris snapped, hooked his leg around Samson's waist, and pulled himself up with it. "The table is, less sturdy, bad angles," Fenris muttered into his ear, nibbling one earlobe "Quickly, Ser Templar." </p><p>Samson gave his thigh a firm squeeze and nipped at the elf's long neck. He hadn’t expected the tattoos to have a defined taste, but they did. Sharply metallic, with the taste of the air after it rains, "I didn’t expect your markings to be purely lyrium."</p><p>He heard Fenris chortle, "of course they're pure lyrium." He grinned, and wrapped his fingers through his short brown hair, pulling Samson’s head back to look into his muddy eyes. "Chair, now." Fenris commanded as he leaned down with a slow kiss. He tracked the sharp line of Samson’s cheek with his thumb and swallowed the low hum that poured out of the templar, holding on tightly as Samson stumbled over his feet.</p><p>Samson growled and dropped him onto the arm of the nearby chair, “are you this demanding of your master, elf?” Fenris heard as he fell backwards against the seat cushions. He curled his toes in the fabric of the armchair before answering.</p><p>“No I can’t say that I am; but you are not my master, are you,” Fenris dared, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He hooked his leg over Samson’s shoulder and held him closer, “my master would have already had me bent over his desk, mercilessly fucking me in the ass. I would already be pleading for him." The words caught Samson off guard and he sucked in a breath. Maker, what had he done to deserve this sharp tongued helot, Samson thought as he grabbed the elf beneath his leg and squeezed, making Fenris gasp in delight. “You have some catching up to do, Samson” he purred and let Samson’s hands feel their way up his leg and towards his hip. Fenris kept his eyes locked on the templar’s hand and bit back another groan as his fingers brushed against his cock, lingering there for but a second before reaching lower. He let out a slow breath, “Templar…I,” Fenris glanced up at him, “your mouth, please.” Samson hovered there for a moment, staring at him just before pressing his nose to Fenris’ leg. He dragged his tongue up his inner thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin there. Fenris shivered, letting out a garbled plea, “that’s not what I meant!” </p><p>"I know what you meant; but I thought you might like this more." Samson quipped as he worked his finger into Fenris without warning him, a deluge of Tevene spilling from the elf's mouth.</p><p>Fenris kicked him in the back, "Do all Fereldens have such horrible manners?" </p><p>Samson simply shrugged at his words, pulling back his finger and replacing it with two. Fenris found his retaliation stop dead in its tracks again, his words catching in his throat with the slightly wider stretch. "Maker's breath..." Samson chuckled and pushed his fingers in just a bit deeper.</p><p>"You seem to be enjoying it regardless of what you meant." Samson raised his eyebrow with a smirk, pulling his fingers out with a slight curl. Fenris choked out a gasp and froze. "Seem to be enjoying it a lot." He trailed a finger from his other hand up the underside of the elf’s erect cock, using the rest of his hand on the way down to slick it up. Samson could hear his rattled breathing, each breath a different length, as he brought his lips to swallow down as much of him as he could. Even here, it seemed Danarius had marked his slave with lyrium, his lips tingling from the contact. </p><p>"Shut up...<em>venhedis</em>. Oh..." Fenris shivered. Samson's warm mouth was all he could have hoped for; but Samson was also holding back. And why had he stopped with his fingers? "Fuck...don't stop," he gasped and squeezed his leg around his waist, in desperate need for more contact from this stranger. He let out an exasperated groan as he continued to be denied of what he wanted. Samson let the elf's cock fall from his mouth with conniving glint in his eyes. Fenris let his head fall back against the arm of the chair. </p><p>"Why...why," Fenris clenched his hands into fists and trembled in frustration. "Don't stop, why did you stop?" Samson continued to watch him as his hand found its way around his own neglected member. </p><p>"What a mouth you got on ya..." he huffed, the fingers of his free hand working their way back up Fenris' thigh. He heard the slave's breath catch in his throat again as hands ghosted over the markings that swirled around his hip. The way Fenris' legs tucked around his waist, and the way his glowering expression softened, Samson could tell it was a step in the right direction. He held onto one thigh as he lined himself up to Fenris. "Is this something you'd like," he teased with a quick glance in Fenris' direction. </p><p>"Yes," Fenris said and locked his leg behind Samson, "Maker...yes." Fenris wondered if Samson would say something about how desperate he sounded at that moment. He wanted to hear the disgusting words hissed into his ear as his body lay depraved and hungry for this stranger. Every accidental brush of skin against his own was glorious and addictive and he arched against Samson in a need for more. Fenris drew a slow breath as Samson inched into him, his hands encircling the other man’s wrists in a tight grip. “Oh Maker…” Fenris choked out and pressed his head back against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling as he felt him fill his entire being with one slow thrust. His hands slid upwards along the templar’s forearms, nails gently biting into skin as he drank in mouthfuls of air.</p><p>Samson lay his head against his shoulder and bit back a sound. He pulled out slightly, Fenris’ heat almost too much to be taken all at once. He wondered if this was still an act being put on for him, or if the elf genuinely wanted this. He slipped a hand free and used it to brace himself against the arm of the chair as he shoved his hips roughly against Fenris. </p><p>“I am yours to do as you please, do not think you have to go easy on me, templar,” Fenris ground out as he rolled upwards into Samson’s thrusts, head turning to look down towards where their bodies met. He smirked and used one hand to pull Samson’s face closer to his, “what I am saying is, you’re not trying hard enough.” Samson chuffed as he was forced to look into Fenris’ bright green eyes.</p><p>“You are quite opinionated, for a slave,” he retorted, reaching between the two of them to find the elf’s cock again as it lay flush against his stomach. Samson wrapped his hand around Fenris’ length, squeezing tightly and pumping his hand to the rhythm of his own thrusts. A lusty whine escaped from Fenris’ lips and he and ground down against Samson “a bit rougher then?” Fenris bit his lip and nodded.</p><p>“Y-yes Ser,” he gasped out, just as Samson held onto the one leg he had hanging over his shoulder and adjusted his angle. He never thought having sex could feel good. Most of the times that Danarius had pinned him to his guests, they had left him feeling empty and never rewarded. At least not by the guests themselves. A pained sound jarred out of Fenris as Samson hit just right with the next thrust he made. “H-hhhh, there-“Fenris groaned, pushing down as Samson rose up to take more of the templar in. Blue light wavered from his brands as Fenris let out a loud moan, his toes curling.</p><p>Samson faltered, his hand clenching around Fenris’ wrist too tightly. Fenris’ hand clawed against his, holding him fast as the other gripped the back of Samson's neck. The lyrium stung his skin with a pleasant heat. “Shit… not enough,” Samson muttered, a bit annoyed. His hand clenched the edge of the chair while he bucked against Fenris with a new found energy, determined to find release. He felt Fenris tense up around him, the pause in his breathing, and Samson pushed deeply into the elf just as he spilled out onto his own stomach with a choked shout.</p><p> Fenris followed the cum with his eyes as it lazily rolled down his smooth skin. But they weren’t quite done yet. “<em>Kaffas</em>,” Fenris panted, noting that Samson still dove into him. He would put up with it of course, but it quickly drew him out of his haze, making him wince with every hard shove into his body. “Samson-“Fenris let out a stuttered grunt as Samson’s thrusts grew less equal and more frantic, he hoped for a quick end. “Sss...” he groaned in pain, just as the templar pulled out, adding his own spend to the mess that pooled on Fenris’ stomach. They stayed like that for a moment, locked together in an exhausted mess just before his hand dropped lazily to the side.</p><p>“Andraste’s tits...” Samson laughed. His breath was warm and steady against his skin. It was comforting, strange man or not, the familiarity comforted him. Fenris grinned and he raked his fingers through Samson’s damp hair, twisting them around the wavy brown locks. He wanted to stay like this for a moment more, to hold onto anything that still made him feel happy, that reminded him of the strange place that haunted his dreams; but he reminded himself of his place here now.</p><p>“You should get up. Danarius doesn’t like to be kept waiting for long,” Fenris drawled, glancing down his nose at Samson.</p><p>Samson snorted, standing up gingerly, “yeah, s’pose you’re right.” He looked over at Fenris, just in time to catch a glimpse of green eyes before they flicked downwards again. He slicked back his sweat-damp hair and turned to gather up the pieces of his clothing that lay scattered around the room. It was awkward to just leave the other man here so abruptly, but what more was there for him to do? “Er…thanks.”</p><p>Fenris froze, mid-way from getting up from the armchair. He had no response for that, what was a free man doing thanking a slave? Fenris mulled over his words carefully while he picked up leggings and a belt, “you are welcome, but the thank you is unnecessary. It’s part of my duty to please Danarius’ guests.” The words came out like they should have, like a well-rehearsed line. “Please, just find your things…I’ll clean up the mess myself.” </p><p>Fenris was almost disappointed as he showed the templar to the entrance. There was a voice in his heart that sung to be free again and he wanted to beg the man to take him. “Good day Ser Templar.” Fenris stared at the ground before shutting the door on any more traitorous thoughts. He had a new life now, he had best get used to it</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, if I'm going to be honest, this was just an elaborate excuse to pair together two characters voiced by Gideon Emory and make it seem believable.</p><p>This piece is an older one and doesn't quite follow my writing style for Fenris anymore; but I did enjoy writing such a bratty Fenris.</p><p>Thank you for reading this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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